


Perpetuity

by professorcockblock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-16
Updated: 2012-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-29 15:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorcockblock/pseuds/professorcockblock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is a hundred meters up, staring down at John as though he is the only solid thing in a quickly disintegrating world.‘Keep your eyes fixed on me,’ he says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perpetuity

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Season 2 finale.  
> 

‘Keep your eyes fixed on me.’"

As if he could ever look anywhere else. As if there was anything in the world but Sherlock. It all happened so fast, that’s what people say, isn’t it? But right here, right now, staring up into an abyss of sky and sky and sky and Sherlock, time has fallen back, a second has become an hour. There is blood rushing to his extremities, screaming in his veins, tearing at his skin, but he doesn’t feel it. There is noise and noise, street noise, city noise, the noise in his head of a thousand, thousand neurons firing off _no_ ’s and _what_ ’s and _please, please stop_ ’s, but he doesn’t hear it. All he feels is Baker Street, and the ghosting curl of Sherlock’s fingers against his, the curve of a thumb against his pulse as they ran for their lives. All he hears is breathing between static, the soft sound of life, the continued assurance of Sherlock, of this, of them. He pushes the phone harder against his ear, as if he could become that sound, as if he could keep it within him. As though, if he could only keep hold of this moment, they might both live forever.

‘Please,’ Sherlock says, and Sherlock never says please. Never bends, never compromises, never minds his manners. Yet here they are, standing at the precipice of the end of the world, and a hundred metres up, looking down at him, Sherlock has finally found the word. Still all there is, all there ever really is, is John and Sherlock and the desperation of the space between them. ‘Will you do this for me?’                                              


End file.
